


Dossier: Fanboy

by LigeiaMaloy



Series: The Chaotic Romantic Adventures of Dylan Shepard and Garrus Vakarian [1]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Humor, M/M, Shakarian - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-05-02 01:14:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5228270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LigeiaMaloy/pseuds/LigeiaMaloy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Miranda Lawson thought her job would be easier once Commander Dylan Shepard was brought back to life and duty she was mistaken. The somewhat chaotic Commander has his own way to come up with results, but "he's cool" seems to be a questionable motivation for choosing a dossier of a potential ally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dossier: Fanboy

**Author's Note:**

> I'm amazed that my little ficlet [Easy Enough.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5194619) got over 20 kudos! Well, as I wrote it to celebrate 20 other kudos, I might as well celebrate again. With more shenanigans of Commander Dylan Shepard, the embodiment of chaotic good!
> 
> I decided to turn this into a series. No regular updates, no fixed chronological order. Just some fun with mShakarian.
> 
> (Dylan Shepard is based on a 100% original character by Blastedking, who drew [this adorable artwork of him ♥ ](http://blastedking.tumblr.com/post/133411838518/someone-aka-masseffectmayhem-suddenly-came))

“EDI, let me in, I need to talk to the commander.” Miranda Lawson was growing impatient as she repeated her order to the Normandy's AI.

“I transferred your request to the commander, awaiting his answer,” EDI repeated a second time. “I'm afraid he is ignoring me, Miss Lawson. I could inform you as soon as he finds time to talk to me.”

“EDI, you'll open this door at once. This is an order.” She slapped the door to Shepard's cabin with the file she was carrying, as a weak substitute to intimidating a subordinate. “Do I have to remind you who you're talking to?”

“Miranda Lawson, second-in-command of the Normandy. Highest rank after the commander,” the AI recited promptly. “Also the highest rank I'm answering to, after Commander Shepard.”

“Don't get sassy with me. It was my influence that allowed a semi-sentient AI to be installed on this ship, don't think I'd hesitate to lobotomise your circuits if I had to.” Which she would hate to do, after boasting that her calculations were, of course, without fault, and that under Miranda'ssupervision, the Normandy would turn into one of a kind among all frigates in the known galaxy. After a moment of silence the door slid open and Miranda stepped into the commander's quarters.

“I told you an hour ago I wanted to talk to you.” At least she didn't catch him in any compromising situation. The commander greeted her with a wave of his hand, without looking away from the screen of his computer. Several data pads were scattered on his desk, and his feet were resting on top of one of them. An activated pad was lying on his lap. He was leaning back comfortably in his chair, sipping coffee from a simple, white mug, probably 'borrowed' from the cafeteria.

Over the last two years, she had read and watched whatever she could find about Commander Dylan Shepard. His origins, his childhood, youth, and finally, his career with the Alliance.

This guy with the unshaven face and his hair tied up in an untidy bun didn't quite fit the ideas she had formed about him.

“Sorry, Miranda, I was busy. Is it important?” He turned in his chair with an apologetic grin.

“Commander, I'd never call you if it wasn't important.” In spite of herself, she smiled back. There still was the urge to shake him, but it was difficult to resist his sheepish smile. Although she had to wonder how many of the positive reports that painted Shepard a legend were influenced by this smile.

“Really sorry then, got a bit lost here. What can I do for you?”

“I've handed you the dossiers of potential recruits two days ago. Time is working against us. It's really important you set our next destination, Shepard. You have to decide on who we go after first. If you allow me, I made a list of-”

“Archangel.” He picked up the data pad from his lap, holding it up. His eyes returned back to the computer screen. Miranda took it, glancing on the screen – it showed an article about Archangel's work on Omega. Mostly gossip, not a reliable source. She slid through the pad's extranet history, scanning the headlines of articles and blog entries, all dealing with Archangel.

 

_“Descending From Heaven to Send You to Hell”_

_“Curse or Blessing?”_

_“Security Forces Torn Between Relief and Anger”_

_“Aria T'Loak Still Refusing to Comment on Archangel-Situation”_

_“Why Our Youth Thinks a Vigilante Turian is Hotter Than Blasto”_

_“The Hero Omega Deserves Strikes Again”_

_“Top 10 Rumors About Archangel That Really Might Be True”_

 

She looked up, frowning at the commander. This was hardly what she would call quality research. Her dossiers listed the relevant information they had well enough, and even if he needed to know more, he should have contacted her. She took a closer look at the computer. A blurry scene showing a crossing on Omega, probably security footage.

“There! If you look closely, you can see his shadow rushing by at 2:03!” Shepard stopped the recording, and pointed at the monitor. Miranda squinted – with a bit of imagination she could identify the shape of a shadow, but it was impossible to say who she was seeing.

“Pretty cool, eh?” He rewound the scene, watching it with an excited grin as it replayed.

“How often have you watched this?”

“Dunno,” Shepard muttered between two sips of coffee. “A few times?”

“Is this how you've spent the last two days?! Digging through tabloids, obsessing over uncertified content about the recruits?”

“Sure. The dossiers are nice and dandy, but a bit, well, bland. No offense, I'm sure you put a lot of work into them.”

“Commander Shepard! I hope you don't expect me to include gossip, rumors and flimsy footage into my files!” She gasped in exasperation, smacking the data pad on the desk. “They might be an interesting read for common people, but we should really focus on facts, and I gave you those, filtered and sorted.” She had to restrain herself from slapping the commander when he chuckled.

“Don't think I'm buying everything I see and read, Miranda. Although I'm not surprised you get that impression.” He laughed, putting his mug away and pulling the computer's keyboard on his lap. He opened a good dozen websites, displaying them next to each other. The titles didn't read very different from what Miranda had seen on his data pad.

“Your dossier told me enough to assume that crime hates him and that the innocent probably like him. Police or any other lawful forces are on the fence. Everyone who ever read a comic knows that. But look at this.”

He pointed at one article. Miranda read the first few lines. It was an interview with an eye witness, dated one and a half year ago. The witness had requested to remain anonymous, as he was working with the Blood Pack. He praised Archangel, for his actions against the Blue Suns.

Shepard switched to another article, dated less than 24 hours later. Archangel and his gang had taken out an executive of Omega security. Files proving his connection with the Blood Pack and their involvement in several assassinations throughout the system. A heavy blow against the Blood Pack that shook the organisation up.

Other reports spoke about Archangel's involvement with the rescue of hundreds of citizens during a fire in the slums. Children claimed they were paid generously for unimportant, harmless errands by Archangel himself or members of his group.

“Charming. He seems to think of himself as a modern hero from your comic books.”

“Which means you've read enough of them to see the parallels,” Shepard grinned when her face turned red. “Don't sweat it, no human being can live from statistics and research data alone. Anyway, you learn a lot about that guy through the voices of seemingly unimportant sources, Miranda. It's not always _what_ they say, but how they see him, and how what they see in him adds up if brought into the field against each other. For or against him, he's quite the impressive character. Amazing in a good or bad way, depending on which side you're on, but nevertheless amazing.”

“In short, you spent the last hours fawning over him like over a pop star,” she scolded. She should have insisted on the control chip for Shepard's brain.

“If you want to put it that way. I'd say I spent the time deciding on who we'll recruit first.” He stretched his arms over his head, looking up at her with a smug grin.

“Shepard, please listen to me. I'd suggest we go after the professor before-”

“Nope, Archangel. I'm dying to meet that guy.”

 

*

 

Infiltrating Omega's organized crime had been easier than expected. Eclipse, Blood Pack and Blue Suns alike were in desperate need for more freelancers to aid their cause, which meant, the more canon fodder the better. If the number was large enough it improved the odds of one of their more skilled allies to have a serious shot at Archangel.

“I'm surprised we convinced them that we're just another bunch of thugs,” Jacob whispered to Miranda after they had climbed the shuttle that was meant to carry them closer to the action.

“I'm not.” She glanced at Shepard. He was sitting at the window, staring at the outside world flying by. He was wearing his hair in a shoulder-long ponytail today, but she doubted he had combed it since she had visited him in his cabin. Several scars on his face still reminded of his resurrection. His sharp nose was crooked from being broken more than once in his old life. She had suggested to correct it during the reconstruction, but the Illusive Man had insisted to restore Shepard's face just as it had been before his dead, injuries from the past included.

Well, in this case, the decision had paid out – Shepard looked like he had been through more than one bar fight, less like a polished former Alliance soldier.

“Not gonna lie, I'm looking forward to meet that guy. Local hero for one-half of Omega, the plague for the other. Sounds pretty cool to me."

“Great, that makes two fanboys. Focus on the job, Jacob, please.”

“Don't worry, I will. But you gotta admit, his excitement is contagious.” Jacob nodded at Shepard, who replied with a grin, holding his thumb up.

“As long as it pays out,” Miranda admitted defeat. The Illusive Man wanted a charismatic representative for his plans, and it was his decision that Shepard should be in full control of his own mind. She had made sure he got what he wanted. How Shepard used his charm, based on whatever motivation, wasn't her responsibility.

“What makes us so sure anyway that he's willing to join us once we find him? We stand for humanity, he's turian. That could be a problem.” There was a point to Jacob's doubt, Cerberus hadn't wasted much time to step on some alien toes. Also taking the rough start between humans and turians into account, they had to prepare for complications. Shepard had a winning way with people, his past accomplishments proved that, especially the events concerning Saren and Sovereign.

However, a risk that this recruitment might fail remained. If Archangel hadn't made a name for himself by working outside the system Miranda wouldn't have included his dossier.

“Hell, if he doesn't join us, we'll just join him. No way I'm letting the chance to work with a guy like that slip!” Shepard spoke for the first time since they got into the shuttle. His feet were tapping on the floor, and he was fidgeting in his seat. His eyes were sparkling with determination and he grinned all over his face, so Miranda ruled out nervousness. If only half of his excitement was devoted to the fighting through an army of mercs and freelancers she'd be contented. An impressive performance of their leading figure might influence their odds with Archangels in their favors.

 

They wasted no time once they arrived at Kima district. The alley was buzzing, and telling hired freelancers from mercs wasn't a challenge. The gangs weren't picky with who they enlisted, as long as the recruits were able to walk and hold a gun the qualifications were met. The more died, they less they'd have to pay when this was over.

“Do these people really think they stand a chance against Archangel? He's taken out legends among the gangs, and these shrimps really believe they'd get out of here alive?” Jacob was shaking his head as they passed a group of four young freelancers. A patchwork of scrap metal functioned as armor, and their guns looked cheap and used.

“Pure desperation.” Shepard walked over to the small group, posing in front of a nervous looking salarian.

“Yo, kiddo, how old?” He poked against the salarian's chest, who stumbled backwards, against the wall behind him.

“M...me? 14. Why?” The 'why' dragged into a shriek when Shepard's hand shot forward and grabbed his throat. He lifted his knee and rammed it at the salarian's ribcage. Miranda and Jacob flinched at the sound of breaking bones, the three bystanders jumped back, crying out in unison.

“Go home to your mom. Who wants to be tested next?” He looked into the faces of two pale humans and another, twitching salarian who resembled the one whining on the floor.

“Don't be shy.” Shepard smiled, cracking the knuckles of his hands.

“Don't mind me. Uh, I... I have to get my brother home.” The second salarian helped his cringing brother up.

“Wait, I help you!”

“Coming with you, guess I have to lend you some credits for the doc again, eh?”

Without raising their heads they scuttled past Shepard and back to the shuttle area, carrying the injured youth between them. The commander looked after them for a few more seconds, then he turned back to his squad mates, sighing.

“Desperate for money, a purpose in life, or both.”

“Was it necessary to break the kid's ribs?” Jacob asked, and Miranda was shaking her head while they both followed Shepard.

“Unless Cerberus has some left-over founds from that Lazarus-crap, ribs heal faster than a headshot. Well, looks like there's still time before we're thrown into battle. Let's see who and what else we can screw with.” The commander's cheerful laugh returned. He took his shotgun from the holster, and leaned it against his shoulder, marching through the mercs around them with a whistle.

 

*

 

“Not bad, Commander.” Jacob crouched next to Shepard behind a barricade of boxes. The group they had been allotted to had been signalled to assume their position. They were the next ones to launch an attack on Archangel. They were hearing gunfire, and screams following the distinctive sharp shots of a sniper rifle.

“So far you've manipulated their YMIR mech, taken out their mechanic, convinced a dozen of kids to go home. All while gaining the trust of the key figures of all three gangs,” Jacob recounted the commander's deeds of the last half of an hour.

“Don't encourage him.” Miranda joined them, a disapproving frown on her face. “We were lucky to get here alive. Commander, next time you need to hack into a system ask before slamming the device with your shotgun.”

“It's the result that counts. But I'll try to remember, Miranda. Now, look at that!” He stretched, reaching for the top box of the barricade, and pulled himself up, looking over it with his feet dangling in the air.

“That dude has an aim to die for. No shot wasted. Can't wait to drag him into a battle alongside me. Two cool dudes on their adventure to save humanity.” Sighing, he watched another merc going down.

“We have to get to him without having him test his aim on us, preferably before anyone of us turns back into a teenager. Is everyone ready?” Miranda checked her smg, put it back into its holster, and chose her heavy pistol, an M-3 Predator, instead.

“Hurts my heart to miss the target on purpose. But I guess it would be suspicious to fire at the mercs in front of our noses.” Jacob readied his shotgun. They hadn't spotted many natural biotics around them; firing too many biotic attacks around the target wouldn't stay unnoticed for long.

A batarian yelled from the sideline – the signal to attack. With his own battle shout, Shepard charged through the boxes, Miranda and Jacob stepped over the remaining debris and followed him, firing their weapons at the wall beneath Archangel's hiding spot.

“Hurry! This way!” Shepard charged at a batarian merc, throwing him to the ground. As soon as they had reached the area under Archangel's balcony, the commander had decided to blow their cover. The next group of low ranked mercs and freelancers had been ordered to attack only moments after them, and none of them hesitated to aim for Archangel's head. Good shot or not, the sheer number of foes forced him to come up from his cover, and sooner or later, somebody would fire a lucky killing shot.

So Shepard had decided to speed their mission up.

His shot gun took cleared the path from weaker mercs. Not wasting any time with close combat Shepard simply ran over the more experienced fighters. Miranda and Jacob finished the job.

“Up here!” They reached the only stairway leading up the balcony. Their actions didn't remain unnoticed. Those right behind them quickly caught on, and within seconds, they had diverted the attacking forces. Less were focusing on Archangel and now chased after Shepard's squad.

Defending the stairs wasn't much of a challenge. The mercs had been prepared to take on a sniper and were an easy game for three soldiers with biotic powers and high-quality weapons.

“There he is.” Shepard rushed through the door on top of the stairs, taking off his helmet. His face beaming with awe.

“Wow, tall. Just my type. Wonder if he's single. And into humans,” he whispered to himself, catching his breath. Miranda secured the door behind them, shaking her head. Jacob smiled at her with pity.

“Archangel?” Shepard stepped forward, waiting when the turian signalled him to halt. He watched him aim, shuddering when he shot. Jacob and Miranda were standing behind him, Jacob giving a grunt of appreciation.

Taking his weapon down, Archangel walked towards them. He took off his helmet and put it on a crate, finally revealing his face.

_Oh my God._

“Shepard.” Garrus sat down on a desk, resting his left foot on a small container, his rifle propped up on the floor between his legs.

 _It's you! You... are... fuck!_ Shepard stood frozen on the spot, staring at his best friend from two years ago with wide eyes.

“I though you were dead...” Garrus stated, avoiding looking at Shepard, twisting the rifle between his fingers.

_And I think I have a crush on you, Garrus Vakarian._


End file.
